


I Win

by Moosey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fireman Derek Hale, Fluff, Happy Derek, M/M, Meet-Cute, One-Shot, Pre-Slash, Stiles is an idiot, Who can't say no to a bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9944621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moosey/pseuds/Moosey
Summary: “Someone bet you to get into a… a toy, meant for children?”“No, someone bet me I couldn’t drink a gallon of orange juice without throwing up.”“Oh, so you threw up and then got stuck?”“Yes, that kind of sums up my day so far, thanks.” Stiles scowled.------Stiles Stilinski never backs down from a bet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like writing something short and cute :D  
> Enjoy! 
> 
> -Ax

“How _exactly_ did you manage to get stuck in there?”

“Well, it’s a long story, but uh. I lost a bet.” Stiles had never felt quite so judged before. It made him want to squirm but, well, he was _stuck_.

“Someone bet you to get into a… a toy, meant for children?”

“No, someone bet me I couldn’t drink a gallon of orange juice without throwing up.”

“Oh, so you threw up _and then_ got stuck?”

“Yes, that kind of sums up my day so far, thanks.” Stiles scowled. The effect was probably lessened by his position, but he gave it his best anyway.

The hot fireman leaned back on his heels a little and looked at Stiles contemplatively. “We’re going to have to cut him out,” he sighed, turning his head slightly to talk to his fellow hot fireman friend.

“Dude! Can’t you just, like… lube me up and slide me out. Coat me in butter or something?” Stiles tried to gesture to his whole self from his hunched up, knees tucked to the chest position, but ended up just wiggling his fingers about uselessly.

Fireman Number Two scoffed a laugh at that, tried to quieten it down when he spotted the unhappy scowl on Fireman Number One’s face. “Want the cutter?” Fireman Two asked, schooling his face back to neutral as best he could.

“Yeah, that should do it.”

“Okay, can I object to this plan?" Stiles interjected quickly. "Because I do! I object, _vehemently_.” He tried to move again, one full body shimmy in an attempt to get himself free from the stupid little bobbing car that was stationed outside the grocery store to tempt little kids as they were dragged around by their parents.

And evidently to tempt stupid teenage boys who should probably know better. No, who should  _definitely_ know better.

“Do you have an alternative plan? One that will waste even more of our time maybe?” Fireman Number One said flatly, giving Stiles a pointed look.

Stiles winced and felt more than a little shamed. “Just… don’t chop me up, ‘kay?”

“I’ll try.” Hot Fireman number one smirked, lifting up a pair of lethal looking shears. Stiles felt his heart rate kick up. Drastically. There really wasn’t much by way space in this little toy car that his delicate self wasn’t filling, and he wasn't convinced he wasn't going to end up in tiny little portable Stiles-pieces that could fit through the kiddie-sized door.

“I’m Derek,” Fireman Number One said abruptly. He took off his helmet - revealing messy dark hair that was fluffier looking than should be allowed - and hunkered down to skim his fingertips over the narrow strip of metal that made up the window frame of the toy car.

Stiles was starting to get a horrible aching in his neck and shoulders as he watched Derek, and decided Scotty at least deserved a dead arm for this. At least. Maybe even a dead leg too, because this was up there as one of the more humiliating moments of Stiles’ life, and it was a pretty impressive list to begin with. Scott was standing over by the railings, eyes wide with worry and looking so damn concerned and sincere that Stiles knew he’d never be able to punch his best friend, no matter how much he might want to.

“So you’re Stiles? Your friend called you that I think?”

“Nickname. My actual name is just… not very people-friendly, when it comes to pronunciation,” Stiles said, trying to shrug and failing.

“Why Stiles?” Derek asked, moving the shears to the metal. Stiles appreciated the attempt at small talk, even if Derek was kind of stilted about it.

“My last name is Stilinski.”

“Like Sheriff Stilinski?”

“Yeah that’s my dad,” Stiles said, trying to press back against the tiny seat (that his hips _might_ be stuck in. He couldn't say for sure.) as Derek used what looked like brute strength to close the shears, cutting through the thin bands of metal on either side of the little doorway. If he weren't so preoccupied, Stiles just knew he'd be drooling over the flexing muscles in Derek's forearms and wrists.

“Yeah? Your dad’s a good guy,” Derek said, glancing up at Stiles. He nodded as best he could, blinking at Derek. Later, he would appreciate Derek’s eyes. Spiky dark lashes around pale olive green eyes, shot through with amber and yellow, ringed in a darker green. It was like looking at a polished precious gemstone in sunlight, different colours catching and shifting. Derek just upgraded from Hot Fireman, to Unearthly Beautiful Fireman. “I’m guessing he’ll be thrilled to find out his kid is skipping school and getting himself stuck in ridiculous situations huh?” Derek asked, a tiny smile tugging on his lips, even as he was frowning in concentration, eyes scanning the frame to find the next snipping position.

“Honestly? He’d be woefully un-surprised at this,” Stiles sighed, curling his hands around his knees. He propped his head on them too, his temple pressing into his knee so he could watch Derek work. “I’m not skipping school though. It’s summer, class is out.”

Derek paused at that, looking confused. He reached in to push Stiles plaid shirt out of the way. “No, my sister is still in class,” he stated, positioning the shears again, this time a slightly wider bit of metal.

“Where does she go to school?”

“Beacon Hills High,” Derek answered absently. This time he made a little grunt of effort as he cut through between the little faux-window and windscreen. It seemed like he was just going to cut the entire top of the toy car right off.

“Dude, I’m not in high school,” Stiles scoffed. “I’m a Freshman. Or I was. I guess I’m a Junior now,” Stiles shrugged, stopping partway when he remembered his squished predicament.

“Oh,” Derek said, brow furrowed in concentration as he eased the shears along and grunted again as he closed them. Stiles took a moment to wonder at the state of his own brain, that that little grunt was kind of turning him on. To be fair, it was vaguely reminiscent of a sex noise, and Derek was both hot and _saving_ _him_ , and Stiles sometimes had a shockingly obvious one track mind. He was still technically a teenage boy, so he felt it was allowed. “You look younger than that,” Derek said belatedly. “Shift forward if you can?”

“How long will this take?” Stiles asked, edging forward and trying to contort himself further. His voice was muffled against his own pant leg and he felt beyond ridiculous now.

“Just a little longer,” Derek replied, now standing somewhere out of Stiles’ line of sight.

“I think I might be a little bit claustrophobic you know,” Stiles commented, swallowing thickly. “Didn’t know that about myself,” he said weakly.

“I’ll have you out soon Stiles, try not to worry, okay?” Derek placed his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. Stiles tensed and then relaxed at the touch, nodding against his knees. Derek pulled his hand back out and worked on the cutting again, keeping quiet this time, but also working faster. Stiles appreciated it, more than he could say right now. “Okay, Isaac,” Derek called out. Fireman Number Two came jogging over from where he’d been chatting with Scott and ducked his head to smile at Stiles as he passed. “I’m gonna switch to the spreader, just try to get some room in there. Help him out if you can?” Derek said from too far away. It made Stiles nervous.

They were all quiet aside from the loud clanging sound of metal on metal. There was an uncomfortable creaking sound that set Stiles’ teeth on edge, but the top of the car began to ease up a little, space opening up where there had been none before. Not a lot, but enough for Stiles to move his body around slightly.

“Think you can manoeuvre out?” Isaac asked. Stiles stuck his leg out of the small doorway, ungainly and long, shifting around so he could get his other leg out too. His knees and elbows all got bumped in the process but it was worth it. Isaac held his ankle, giving him some support, and stepped in to brace Stiles’ feet against his thighs so he’d have something stable to press against for maximum wiggling. Stiles lifted himself out of the small tub chair thing, and reached out his arm, grabbing Isaac’s shoulder with first one hand, then the other. He dropped his feet down to the floor - he only hit hit head once before Isaac thoughtfully spread a palm over his cranium to protect it from further mishaps - and carefully twisted himself out of the car, still hunched over, but finally, _finally_ , free. He was doubled up, hands on his thighs, groaning at the ache in his spine, when Isaac laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job man,” he smiled, “can you stand upright?”

“Oh my God I feel like I’m a million years old,” Stiles whined, straightening up in little careful increments.

“I think that and the general humiliation that comes from being stuck in a kids toy should be punishment enough? Lesson learned?” Derek asked, appearing beside Stiles. Stiles craned his head around to glare, but he nodded nonetheless. Lesson very much learned.

“Are you gonna tell my dad?” Stiles asked with a wince, feeling like a thoroughly abashed kid again.

“Oh that’s already been and done. Check your phone,” Derek grinned at him and it was like looking at the sun. Almost too blindingly beautiful.

And wow he was waxing poetic about this man. This could very quickly get out of hand.

“No, I really don’t want to,” Stiles groaned, finally straightening up. He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, kneading the aching, taut, muscles. He was going to be a walking knot in the morning.

“Anything hurt? I mean beyond the obvious,” Derek asked, flitting his eyes over Stiles as if searching for any wayward injuries.

“No, I’m good. Just my fragile ego. Thank you though, for you know. Helping me.”

“Just doing my job,” Derek replied with a nod. They both glanced over to Isaac, who had trotted back to Scott, drawn over to him like an eager moth to an equally eager flame.

“Ten bucks says they’re dating in less than a week,” Stiles said, recognising the enamoured look in Scott’s eyes.

“I’m not making a bet with you Stiles,” Derek said flatly, looking pointedly at the mangled car ride behind them.

“Okay, yeah that’s probably wise,” Stiles agreed, nodding sagely. “But, you know," he argued, "we could make it so winner picks their prize? No money involved,” he added, trying to sweeten the deal and just extend his contact with Derek somehow. “Or, you know, potentially humiliating situations that result in the damage of public property,” he added belatedly.

“Lesson really not learned then,” Derek commented dryly, glancing over at Stiles. “Okay, winner picks the prize,” he said after a thoughtful pause, reaching out a hand for Stiles to shake, looking smug.

“Wait, what do you want if you win?” Stiles asked suspiciously, not liking the smirk on Derek’s face. Or okay, yes he liked it, he thought he might like everything about Derek’s face. But he wasn’t sure he was going to like what that look could possibly mean for him.

Scrap that. He thought he might love what that look meant, but he was trying not to get his stupid hopes up.

“A date,” Derek replied, giving Stiles a look laden with challenge.

“With me?” Stiles squeaked incredulously, “even after… you know. Getting stuck like an idiot and everything?”

“Yes, even after that Stiles.”

Stiles blinked at him and put his hand in Derek’s to shake slowly, sure he was the cruel recipient of a prank or something because this just couldn’t be his life. It couldn’t. Still, he was agreeing to those terms, because prank or not, he’d be stupid not to.

Derek used the handshake and pulled Stiles in a little closer, leaning in to speak directly in his ear. “By the way, Isaac goes on holiday for a week tonight after his shift. So I win.”

Stiles huffed out a shocked laugh and poked Derek in the sternum with his free hand, emboldened by how Derek was looking at him. “Cheater,” he accused, still holding on to Derek’s hand between their bodies.

“You complaining?” Derek asked, arching a strong looking eyebrow, eyes sparkling with amused challenge. His thumb was lightly moving over the back of Stiles' hand, and it was  _so_ distracting. 

Stiles swallowed thickly, and gave in to the butterflies in his stomach, grinning at Derek. “No dude, not at all. Not even the tiniest little bit in fact.”

“Good. Oh, and Stiles? Don’t call me _dude_.”


End file.
